Eyes, my love

Picture yourself in a boat on a river, with tangerine fleas and marmalade flies,

suddenly you find yourself, awake in a room,

where all of the white walls have eyes,

have eyes,

and even the ceiling, the floor, your art,

even the shadows, your prose,

the snow , all

have eyes, had eyes, has eyes, my dear

and with certainty the skies have eyes.

My love...

Certainly the sky has eyes!